Page 50 of Death's Deal

“It has a lot of information I think could help us out of a few problems.”

Taking a seat once more, Cap asks, “What do you think it could help with?”

“Well, for one. It seems the mayor owes someone higher up than the Huesos and Alta.” With a dramatic pause, pulling out a chair, I sit. “It’s this cartel, Mano.”

“We need a playbook to figure out who the bad guys are,” Joker quips. “Is there some other vigilante in the background waiting to fuck with us too? Shit, we need a hero. Where’s Batman when you need him?”

I don’t disagree. “Thing is, my family and Toni’s are neatly tied up in this debacle. We were painted into a corner long before I went to jail. The mayor has a lot more to lose if we end up in the slammer. His history would come up during an election year. Plus, he owes this cartel a debt for goods and services, and if he doesn’t come good on it, it won’t be just me on the block this time.”

Busta leans on the table, scratching his chin and blowing out a bothersome breath. “We have too much to lose if we fail.” Peering over at Toni, giving her his full attention, he adds, “Your family may be linked to this Mano shit, and it’s why we’ve gained the Federal protection details, but we’ll figure it out. You and your son are protected.”

“So, let’s plan this shit,” Cap states, placing Piper on his lap and leaning forward.

“Yes. Let’s.” With the door popping open, the original three-piece-suited assholes reenter. Stepping to the side, leaving the doorway free, in walks the one person I know doesn’t have our best interests at heart, Agent Johnson.

Chapter 28

Past, present, andHell. Everything meshed, molded, and married up. Every part of our lives was a piece of the Federal puzzle that Johnson was more than happy to solve. Sending his gumshoe partners back out to the common area to wait, Johnson stays at church.

“Hylo was one twisted woman. She has a file larger than Mayhem, and that’s saying something,” Johnson states it like he’s impressed. Each looks to one another, wondering how Johnson is caught up on our closed-door bug-free conversation.

Walking to an empty beer can in the trash, he raises it, eyes the bottom, and removes a tiny almost nonexistent electronic device. “You almost got them all,” Johnson states to the room, finding a sea of faces even more annoyed at the gov goon than they had been twenty minutes previous. “I promise, this is the last one.”

I nod. “Not many knew her by that name, but, yeah.”

“Cactus was who I knew her as.” Shaking like a leaf in the breeze, Piper grits her teeth together then speaks with malice, “She was more ruthless than the Queen could ever be. When she came to the compound, everyone ran in fear. And I mean everyone.” Seeing a lone tear stream down her ebony cheek, catching it with the back of her hand and wiping it away, Piper gathers her pain, and shores her soul up around the memories. “Even someone as brutal as Hector ran scared of her.” She turns to Cap and Busta. “Your father would escape her visits, heading to the fight rings, the fields, and the slave quarters. He’d go anywhere to be away from her.”

Steely Joker asks, “Where is this Hylo now?” Resting on his elbows, his eyes train on me, looking for a hidden truth. “Will she be our next problem?”

“My mother is not something I’ve talked about or seen in years. She’s dead.” Eyeing Toni, I take a deep breath and continue the lie. I tell them of the last time I saw her. “My mother died the year before I went to jail. I’d begged her to take me to this specialty store in Orange County and she did. On the way home, her car was sideswiped on the highway by a drunk asshole. He didn’t live long either. Mayhem made sure of that with a forty-eight caliber.” I pause, letting the memory settle over me. It’s one I wish to forget in totality.

“Mind if we give you our two cents?” Johnson interrupts coolly. His easy demeanor around our MCs has become even more chill over the past few months. It's slightly disconcerting. The Army, the Bows, and the Soulless have had our mutual dealings with Johnson that had been beneficial for our survival, but it’s not a friendship by any means. Seeing his excessive comfort in this situation needs to be quashed. Johnson feels he is untouchable around us. He’s a federal agent who had nearly cost us our clubs, and he needs to be reminded of that, and soon.

I don’t answer his loaded question, I merely shrug.

“We’re in a spot,” he states quite unceremoniously.

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